#domestic violence shelters

[furiousgoldfish]

when done to children it's called 'discipline' when done to adults it's called 'violent assault' and also 'torture'

#child abuse #abusive parents #domestic violence #violent parents #assault disguised as discipline #any hitting or forcing you against your will is assault #any deprivation of food or sleep or shelter or basic resources is torture

[stillarandom-radfem]

I said this once on my old account, and I'm going to say it again: even if a TiM in a women's shelter isn't actively misbehaving towards the women in the shelter (and momentarily ignoring the fact, of course, that many of them do), by being there, he is still taking a bed away from actual biological women who have nowhere else to go. About 99% of biological women who are homeless become so due to domestic violence, and going back home could mean death for them. Meanwhile, most TiMs have experienced a male puberty, and could more than handle themselves in a male shelter. Yes, even TiMs who are on cross-sex hormones and have had cosmetic surgeries in hopes of "passing" as a woman. You are still significantly physically stronger than most women are; you'll be fine in the men's shelter. And, if they feel that there aren't enough shelters for guys, or that they want ones explicitly for trans people, they can always go out and build them. You know, like women did for ours? It's not our sex's job to compensate you with our beds and shelters that we took the time and effort specifically to set aside for ourselves. Not when our lives are on the line, and the only thing you risk injuring is your ego. That's not our problem. You deal with it, and then go find a bed at a men's shelter. No, I am not sorry for you. Go cry to someone who cares.

#anti trans activism #anti transgender #anti trans #proud terf #terfs do interact #terfs do touch #terfs please touch #terf safe #terfs please interact #trans women are men #female homelessness #women's shelters #domestic violence #proud radical feminist #proud radfem #women's liberation #women's spaces

[witchofthesouls]

So, I’m not sure if you’re taking emergency requests or not but I could really use something. I’m not sure if you know but parts of northeast Florida are basically underwater.

I’m visiting from college and I’ve been trapped at the Fort Lauderdale airport for a day and a half, soon to be two. My parents are trapped in their home (they live in an apartment but their garage is completely flooded) and can’t get to me, so I have to hold until the water levels here and there go down enough for me to get home.

I’m tried, cold, haven’t showered in almost two days, sleeping in shifts between rock hard seats and the floor to charge my phone and avoiding downstairs like the plague because that’s also flooded, I’m stuck with other people, my period tracker says in due to start any day now, and I want my moms home cooked meal. I have the feeling I’m gonna bawl my eyes out the second I’m out of this god forsaken airport.

Could you do a headcanon on how TFP Optimus, Megatron, and Ratchet would react to their human daughter being trapped in an airport for two days due to horrible weather and finally seeing her when it’s clear?

(Oh wow, anon, I didn't know about the storms flooding Florida. I had to look up news for it. And yikes, it still isn't over yet. That's a severely rough time, especially at a stopping point. Here we go with a different style: )

Optimus would immediately be in the vicinity when the weather subsides enough for him to safely transport you. Nature on Earth, he finds, is beautiful, but also devastating, especially on small beings without innate protection. Before you see his alt-mode, it's worn-looking, yet relieved "Leo Cullen" that greets your eyes. He takes extra care with his holomatter, so when he hugs you for a long moment, it's warm and solid. You feel the leather and flannel, the scratch of his facial hair, and roughened fingers. There's the underlying smell of sun and storm, and it feels like home.

The sleeper cab would be ready because, between the size of his alt-mode and root-mode, it's easy to transport a mattress in his subspace. Freshly laundered with your favorite road-trip snacks. The road back is long with pit and truck stops to stretch your legs, eat meals, showers, and look at the scenery, but that's because these trips are the only time between you and him and no one else, barring an emergency.

There's nostalgia over the radio, cassettes, and CDs. Podcasts of shared interests and audial books he listens on his spare time. He sings a little off-key to get you to smile and "Leo" smiles right back. He names the constellations visible in the sky and talks about the ones back on Cybertron; his voice lulling you to sleep as he steps through the mythology of Thirteen and their legendary battle against Unicron in the sky.

The one that fusses the most is Ratchet. His time at the base is a mix of complaints on such a chaotic nightmare of a planet and hyperfocus on things that need his attention. Otherwise, he'll drive himself up the walls with the continuous onslaught of new reports and in-and-out communication from you. (He wonders if he can simply take over your post-secondary education. Ratchet has mentored factory fresh new-builds, and he can learn his lesson from the science projects to take account of the planet's educational framework.)

You're stressed, so it makes him stressed because all he wants to do is bundle you up, keep you tucked away on his shoulder, and yell at everything that got you to that point. He can't fight the weather, so your 'old man' of a father picks you up with faded red hair and a severe frown as he impatiently waits. "Haiden Ratcliffe" looks like he just got off a double shift in his scrubs, and it looks to you that he hasn't been sleeping well with the presence of bags under his eyes on his holomatter. But now you two are a father-daughter match in exhaustion.

Despite his appearance, he's powerful and the force of his hug takes your breath away and skews his glasses as he lifts you up. He's tutting and grumbling in his usual, grumpy way as he gets you inside his alt, so he can run passive scans and get you more comfortable because he has everything on hand. "Haiden" doesn't make frequent appearances, unless it's necessary (and the PTA and school board would like to keep it as minimum as possible), so it's a nice moment to rest on his shoulder and he runs warm as large hands run through your hair.

On the opposite spectrum, for a mech known for his eloquence, Megatron has the hardest time providing soft comfort. He intimately knows bitter ones, harsh ones, wrathful ones, and heavy-handed ones. Cordiality is one thing, but gentleness is a beast that's foreign to him. It's not even a luxury he reserves for himself.

He gnashed his denta, bleeding them, opening a few scars on his face, and his fists clenched until the muscle-cabling and joints strained as he monitored atmospheric reports and potential damage. It isn't an enemy he can turn his fists and fusion cannon on, his rage cannot cow a storm or defeat tornados. Strength is what he knows and what he has, and he loathes how it fails him in this instance, even as he demolishes the training forces and simulations.

Nor can he hide easily. Even if he takes on a more appropriate Earth alt-mode, there's no way he can simply fly his way through the airport, especially if he wants to keep your presence beneath everyone's sensors. (Even if he stares at the blueprints of the infrastructure to casually find spots that could reasonably cover a ground bridge to get you immediately back on the warship. It's child's play for Soundwave to down the security systems and continuous storms could mask the power output, right?) He sends Breakdown to get you for the mech's thick armature and his ease with softer manners.

Megatron's care is more subtle, in some ways distant, because he struggles on presenting a kinder face. Your alarms are shut off as you're excused from practices. The showers are well-stocked with quality spa accessories and treatments. He says nothing when your pet drone slinks its way into bed and curls around you.

Food is a language he can understand and compromise on. Fuel was important, something close to sacred, to those deep in the mines and shackled in the Pits. Compared to what he's used to, the cuisine on Earth is nauseatingly overwhelming: diets and lifestyles and so many little, yet important factors that contribute to your health and wellness. What is edible and non-edible is not a hard line; it's a shore where it depends on the preparation and methods and cultivation. It's nothing at all like harvesting Energon crystals. And he vaguely wonders how humanity hasn't killed itself in its infancy between intentional poisonings of rotted or fermented food and accidental death by a simple mistake when foraging.

You can't drink directly from his lines, so he takes it upon himself to provide in another way and he tackles the culinary arts as a challenge to overcome. And, to him, it's a satisfying one.

Megatron cooks meals and balances your nutrition. Styles of all kinds and the world in his grasp. When you return, he makes your favorites, the things that comfort you the most as you and he sit down to fuel together. Your expression is all he needs to be pleased as he savors the warm purr of satisfied sire-coding.

#ask #transformers #transformers prime #tfp #optimus prime #optimus #ratchet #megatron #reader insert #parental relationship #domestic #maccadam #my writing #cybertronian culture #love language #implied violence #damn get ready for Iron Chef Megatron #anon i hope this gives a little comfort and your airport shelter stay is over soon

[kittykatninja321]

You should be able to kill domestic abusers like they should give you a freebie

#My sister is staying in a domestic violence shelter with a fresh baby and a disabled 4 year old while he stays in HER apartment -_- #my oldest niece is staying in my room at my parents house because she can’t stay with her boyfriend anymore

[j-a-nuary]

I really can't believe some of the bullshit people donate to shelters.

NOBODY WANTS YOUR OPENED AND OBVIOUSLY USED MAKEUP

NOBODY WANTS YOUR STRANGELY STICKY COLLECTION OF NAIL POLISH FROM THE 80s

WHY IS EVERYTHING ALREADY OPENED??

#like damn yall really see people who need shelters as subhuman huh? #just throw away your half used minis from hotels #shelter life #work stuff #kiwi irl #dv awareness #dv shelter #domestic violence #domestic violence advocate

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I would love to see Jake in therapy! Especially as a victim of abuse himself, being hurt by people who this time genuinely don't know better or don't mean to hurt him must be very triggering. He can't react with anger and he won't let himself feel it because he prioritises them.

CW: Discussion of childhood abuse, domestic violence, brief religious talk and a VERY extended wildfire metaphor, I'm so sorry

Takes place after The Same Bed Arc

-

"You know what I hate the most about my job?"

The question pops out of him seemingly without his consent. Jake finds himself confused as he hears his own voice, feels his own mouth moving to form the words. But once he starts, he can't quite stop.

Dr. Berger's eyebrows raise, slightly, looking up from the calendar she's carefully making coded notations in. They've been scheduling out the next three months of clandestine appointments for the runaways, fitting them in here or there around her schedule, when she can find her way to safe places where no one will be tracked. "Jake?"

He rakes a hand back through his hair, stubbornly refusing to refer to it as his good hand, because then he'd have to admit that he still hasn't got the grip strength he used to have on the other one. How long can he hide the tingling nerves, the way sometimes his fingers feel numb? How long can he disguise having to shift to using one arm instead of both?

How long can he keep-

"The goddamn lying. That's what I hate the most."

Dr. Berger doesn't visibly react, really. Her gaze shifts briefly to one side, checking that the door to her office is closed, then back to his face. "It is an unfortunate necessity in what we do," She says, voice low, warm and empathetic. "But I can see how it would be exhausting, even when you're experienced in this line of work.”

"It’s not even because of work, that's what I fucking hate." Jake sits back, running his hand over his face. He's so tired. He's staying awake too much, watching Kauri sleep, the bruises around his neck finally fading. He's clingy, Kauri, holding onto Jake all night and waking up the second he gets out of bed for a drink or to visit the bathroom. And if he's not holding onto Jake, he's clinging to Antoni instead. Antoni, who only shakes his head when Jake asks if he needs some space, and refuses to be separated from Kauri whatsoever, even when it's clearly costing him. He just keeps staying there, watching and waiting for another attack that they know isn't coming - the one who wants to hurt Kauri is gone, as gone as you can get - but neither of them can stop waiting for it, anyway.

Kauri is back to his old way of saying I know it's stupid, but can you tell me you love me? with a brittle, false sparkling brilliance that will shatter like glass if anyone hesitates a second too long before they respond.

It's too familiar. It hurts too much.

“I hate that I started lying when I was four and I’ve never stopped.” There. The words are out, and there’s a relief alongside the tightness in his throat, that eternal drumbeat of shame that he’s never been able to shake. All the audiobooks he’s played in his car, the well-meaning therapy shit on the internet, none of it ever made him able to shake the shame. Not all the way. Not completely. 

“You’ve mentioned your difficulties as a child before.” 

He looks at her, blinking. She’s sitting back, too, hands folded in her lap. The perfect representation of calm professionalism, even in her weekend sweats and short ponytail, meeting him after an hour at her hot yoga class. Which she claims is miserable but ‘exhilarating’, which to Jake mostly just seems like ‘miserable, but too expensive not to pretend to like’.

“You’re treating me like a patient,” He says, and there’s humor in his voice that he doesn’t really feel. It’s not a statement, honestly, it’s more of a question, if one he already knows the answer to.

She nods, mostly just tipping her chin slightly down, head to the side. “You seem like you need someone to talk to, lately,” She says, and there’s no hint of annoyance or irritation in voice or face. Only her empathy, which he’s seen turned on so many of the runaways over the years, now aimed right at him. “But I’ve been thinking that you seem like you need someone to talk to lately more or less since you were twenty-three years old.”

“Christ, has it been that long?” He groans. “God, it has. I’m getting old.”

“You’re not even thirty-five, Jake.” She smiles wide enough for him to catch the dimple on one side. “But I know the feeling. I felt old at your age, too. And then somehow I kept getting older without actually feeling any wiser."

“Funny how that happens. I’m all right, Andrea, I really am, but I just… you know, it never stops. And that’s what I wanted, I knew from the first month I worked for Nat I didn’t want to do anything else with my life, but with… with what happened to Kauri… I’m wondering if I’m even strong enough to do this forever.”

“Very few people are,” Dr. Berger says gently. “That’s nothing to feel upset or ashamed of.”

“Nat never stopped.” 

“Nat’s quite the exception to the rule.” Dr. Berger exhales without quite opening her mouth all the way, looking towards the window in her office, the tree outside. Her fingers tap idly along the top of one thigh. “But even she is only taking on one person right now-”

“Two, if you count Vince.”

Dr. Berger’s lip twitches in another slight smile. “Fine. Two. But my point is that Nat is a very driven person, yes, but even she needed to step back for a while. It’s not a problem to become worn down by the work you do. And lying is difficult, even lying for survival. Our minds dislike dishonesty, even our own. You can’t make a baseline of success based on someone else’s career path, because you are not Natalie Yoder.”

“God, no. I’m sure not. I wouldn’t ever have worked for WRU, for one thing.”

Dr. Berger is quiet for a beat, and then asks softly, “Do you resent her?”

“I did, for a while after I found out. After I found out she’d lied to us for so long, when I had-... when I hadn’t lied to her, you know-... but she had lied to us. And then they showed me that photo of her…  Yeah, I was angry for a while.”

“Because of the lying?”

“Because of the lying to me.” He shakes his head. Somehow it’s found its way into his hands, palms pressed to his temples over his eyebrows. The office is a little over-warm - she keeps the thermostat higher on the weekends so the air won’t run as hard. The wildfires have finally come under control, but the smoke travels and the sun outside seems weaker, a little orange, even in the middle of the day. But still, the smell in the air keeps Jake on edge. 

Like he can’t quite shake the way the air smelled when he was racing his car towards Vince’s house, following Keira’s directions and praying he wouldn’t be too late.

And he almost was.

Staring at Kauri in Antoni’s arms, the weeping and the tears. The blood, only realizing once he had them both in his own arms that the blood wasn't Kauri's, but Owen's.

Realizing only when Vince and Nat were headed for the bathroom that Vince had been the one to wield the knife.

He'd already been thinking about the lies they would tell to explain Owen’s death, even before he could bring back home the person he loves most on earth. It’s always been about the lies they’ll use to save themselves, it’s always been about the lies he’ll tell to protect his family.

“Is it-... Jake, this is a delicate question, but is it because it reminds you of your-”

“Dad?” He cuts her off. Somehow it feels safer to be the one to say it out loud. He looks up to see her throat move as she swallows, to take in the plain, worn blue of her sweatshirt. She has little wrinkles around her eyes like Nat does, and did she have any of them when he first met her, or has that just come with the time, the years that have passed while they worked to help frightened, hurting people heal? 

She nods.

“Yeah.” He laughs, airy and bitter and humorless. “It does remind me of him, definitely. Of telling people at church that I fell out of a tree instead of that my dad grabbed me hard enough to dislocate my shoulder, and then sitting through a stupid fucking Sunday School lecture about the ‘importance of honesty’ and God knowing when we lie. Of my mother laughing with my grandparents about being so dang clumsy when every single person at the Thanksgiving table giving thanks for our good fortune knew he’d punched her. Of telling myself that I wasn’t angry she didn’t leave even though I was punching the wall until my hands bled when I thought about having to keep living in that house with him. Seven year old kids shouldn’t be angry enough to do that!“

She doesn’t say anything, but at least she doesn’t have her notebook out. It feels less like real therapy if she doesn’t have her notebook, if she’s just listening. It makes it easier to keep talking, knowing that the words simply dissolve into the air after he says them, and there’s no one keeping a record of his confessions.

“I feel like I’m always angrier than the people hurt worse than I was,” Jake whispers. His eyes burn, and he’s surprised to feel tears welling when he blinks, even more shocked when one rolls, warm and and then suddenly cold, down his face. His heart twists, chilled and burning inside his chest. “I was always angrier than my mom, I’m angrier about Owen Grant than Kauri is. I’m always fighting off my anger while they’re coming up with reasons it happened, and they’re not even reasons, they’re-... they’re… God, I don’t know what. No, I do, I do. They’re excuses. Justifications. Even Kauri, even Kauri sometimes talks about how Owen Grant was lonely, like it fucking matters. They get hurt anyway, those assholes hurt them, Owen tried to kill them, and I’m supposed to, what, just… make it better, but not admit what was wrong in the first place?"

He groans, a sound that seems like it wells up against his will, comes pouring out of somewhere deep inside him that has been coiled and tense and twisted for his entire life. Water rushing through a canyon after the bursting of a dam.

“I just feel like… like I can’t get away from lying. I wanted to help people but I’m doing the same shit I’ve always done. And I can’t ever seem to stop it before it happens. Just... pick up the pieces."

“You feel like you are drawn to people who have been subjected to intense abuse because of your early years, and that it’s become a cycle of telling lies to protect them while perhaps not feeling like you are fully succeeding.” She rephrases it so succinctly, so perfectly, and, well… there’s a reason she’s the therapist and he’s just some guy who keeps the door open for hurting people to come in out of the cold.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you’ve been having a resurgence of this anger because of what happened with Kauri? It’s very understandable-”

“Not just him. I mean, yeah, that didn’t help, but…” He rubs at his left hand with his right. His fingertips spark and tingle, like his hands gone to sleep, only sometimes it doesn’t stop for hours at a time. He can’t really feel the pressure of his right hand through the nerves in his left, and like always, a part of him is cold with fear at what that means. “Ever since… ever since I was stabbed, really.”

“Since Jameson stabbed you.” She says it without blame or recrimination towards Jameson, simply names the events for what they are.

It helps.

God, it helps to hear someone else say it.

“Yeah, since, since then. Since Jameson stabbed me. Mostly because… there’s some kind of thing wrong with my arm, my hand, ever since. And I’m… I’m not telling them about it.”

“You’re lying to them about your injuries that came as a result of someone else’s loss of control over their actions, and this feels like your childhood with your father?”

“... it’s not-... my dad could have controlled it. My dad knew what he was doing, he wanted to hurt me, to hurt my mom. It’s not really the same. Jameson didn’t even know who I was. He has these flashbacks, worse than anyone else I’ve ever worked with, where he can be-... violent. Nat says it’s mostly under control, now, with his medication. He still has them occasionally, but now that he’s not in the house with someone who reminds him of the guy who hurt him, or one of them. Which… apparently I do. Remind him of one of those bastards, which, doesn't that feel great to hear."

Another bitter laugh.

“I mean, people always told me I was just like my dad-... that I looked just like him, I mean. Shit. Well, that’s a goddamn Freudian slip, huh?”

She pauses. “It does seem to suggest you have a certain amount of concern over repeating the cycle of abuse within your own relationships, yes. We can talk about that, but I want to stay with the worry you came in here carrying. It’s a heavy weight, Jake. A lifetime of practicing deception would be difficult for anyone, no matter their inner strength. Let me say that I do wonder if there isn’t an element of this injury weighing even more heavily on you because you are lying to the people you are usually lying for.”

That hits. 

That hits hard.

He rubs at the skin between thumb and forefinger, pinching it as hard as he can. He barely feels it. “... probably. That’s probably true. But everyone is hurting, and they need me to be the strong one, you know?”

She pauses. Considers his words. “Do they, Jake?”

He’s so tired.

Jake wonders, idly, how many times he thinks about how tired he is, each and every day. How much of his life has been spent thinking those exact words, if you added together every single second?

“I think they do. I have to be in control, I have to be the one who doesn’t get torn apart, because they already have been. They need someone to always be the, the rock, you know? ‘The wise man builds his house upon the rock’, you ever heard that song?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Oh. It’s a church song, for kids. ‘The wise man builds his house upon the rock,’” Jake manages a slight tuneless singing, then lets it fade, an embarrassed flush marking his cheeks. “I have to be the rock.”

A bird sings outside the window, chirping happily, and Jake turns to look. Through the slits of the oversized wooden blinds, he can see it sitting at a bird feeder, happily dipping its beak to pick up seeds while a jealous squirrel chitters from a tree branch nearby. 

“I would perhaps note that there are other places to build a house than on a solid, unmoving rock.” Dr. Berger doesn’t sound mocking, or like she’s being humorous or even lightly making fun of his thoughts. She follows him down the confusing trail of his conversation, and leads him back to the main path, the larger one where he can sort of see the next marker telling him where to turn. “Rock subjected to water will eventually crumble and wear away. It can shatter under pressure, you know. And it can be hard work to build a long-lasting foundation when you have to break into the stone to do it.”

“They built skyscrapers in New York by drilling into the bedrock,” Jake counters.

Dr. Berger smiles. “But skyscrapers must be built with flexibility, Jake. They sway, they shift, they move with the wind and the ground beneath them. Otherwise… well. Otherwise, they would just fall with the pressure caused by ordinary wind. The foundation is important, but so are the components used to create the structure itself.”

“I… can’t think of any other building metaphors to argue with,” Jake admits after a pause, and she laughs, warmly, and then he does, too. Some of the tightly coiled anxiety inside of him relents, just a little, and the anger goes with it. “In any case, the idea of the song is from a Bible verse. Uh, ‘everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house. Yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.’”

“I have seen houses pulled off the rock they were built on into flooded rivers,” Dr. Berger says softly, “And pulled apart by the water, left as just some wood and nails, Jake. I've seen videos of tornadoes picking a house up and turning it to puzzle pieces in seconds, no matter what it was built on. And anyone who had built a house on a rock without a basement would have been lifted up with it."

“Well, the idea isn’t exactly-... Jesus didn’t get to watch youtube videos. And I doubt He had much experience with tornadoes."

“No, He didn’t. When did you last read the Bible, Jake?”

“I don’t know. Long time ago. Don’t even own one any longer. Nat does, I think.” He rubs a hand over his face again. Maybe when he goes home he’ll lay down and ask if Kauri wants to nap with him. 

“But you still had that bit about the rock, what, memorized?”

“Yeah. Turns out when you win the stupid Bible memorization quiz competition four years in a row, that shit sticks with you.”

“I can see that.” She hesitates, and then picks up the pen she’d been using to make the appointments for the runaways. She taps it lightly on her desk, over the oversized calendar she uses, that takes up most of the space in front of her. “Jake, you have spent a lot of years letting anger build up inside of you because you are afraid to express it. You’ve said as much, that you fear your resemblance to your father becoming more than simply physical. And mentioning this incident with Jameson, I think… to return to our incredibly tortured metaphor, I think… I think that that incident has been like increased wind, or pressure, and you are not able to shift or sway to hold yourself together, not forever. And Owen Grant’s attack on Kauri and Vince has increased that wind speed even more. You can’t keep going like this forever.”

“Probably not. But I can't stop, either. Who else can keep going, if I can’t? You know? If I don’t take care of everything, who’s going to?”

“They are. Kauri, Antoni, Chris. Everyone in your house. They adore you, Jake, and they are capable and probably more than happy to help you. But you have to be able to ask for and receive help in order for them to provide it.”

“Right. And how do I do that, exactly, when Kauri still looks like the attempted murder victim he is, Antoni won’t leave his side, and Chris has been calling himself names again since he saw them written on the wall at Laken’s? I mean, how do I ask for help from people who need help way more than I do?”

“It’s not a competition-”

“Sometimes it feels like it is.”

“I understand. Jake, I think you should start coming to see me. There’s a lot inside of you that you’ve been pushing down to help people. Providing that help is admirable, but if you keep going without slowing down or taking a breath, you’re going to collapse. I want you to have someone to talk to.”

“You?”

“Yes.” Dr. Berger smiles. “Me. I don’t mind. I’m actually easing out of taking regular patients, it’ll be time to retire for me soon, anyway. I have an opening on Thursday mornings. Would you like to start coming in at, say 9:30 in the morning? Each Thursday?”

Jake swallows, nods, then stops himself. “What do I tell the others I’m doing?”

“Jake.” Dr. Berger sighs, but her smile is still there. “You tell them exactly the truth. You’re going to therapy, too. Just like they do. You don’t lie to them about this, and we’re going to talk about how to stop lying about other things, too. Your deception has been self-protective, and protective of others, for so long that it’s become a survival mechanism. But you don’t need to protect yourself that way, not from your loved ones, not any longer.”

“It feels like it. It feels like I do.”

“Which is why I want to see you next Thursday, at 9:30 in the morning, coffee in hand.” She smiles. “Deal?”

He breathes out. His phone buzzes, and he glances down at it to see a message from Kauri. Three pizza emojis, question mark. If Kauri’s using emojis, today isn’t going well. 

If Antoni is happy with Kauri asking him to order pizzas instead of offering to cook, today is really not going well. 

Jesus, he’s so goddamn exhausted. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

“Deal,” He says, a little heavily. “Thursday, 9:30. Coffee in hand. Until then…”

“Until then, remind yourself that you’re allowed your anger. And they’re allowed to know about it, so that you can have fully honest expressions of your feelings with each other. Communication is key to a relationship, and I guarantee-... Jake, I guarantee that Antoni and Kauri are angry, too, about what’s happened. And that both of them are probably as frightened of expressing it as you are, if for different reasons. You have to talk to each other, and that means you, too.”

“... shit.”

Her smile widens slightly, wryly. “What? Hit the nail on the head?”

“Maybe a little bit. I guess there’s a reason you’re the therapist and not me.”

“I’m the therapist because what you and Nat do takes an amount of dedication and emotional strength that I don’t believe I am capable of. I admire the two of you immensely, Jake. You’ve no idea how much. But you both still need someone to help you, and I would love to be that person."

He feels his face burn hotter and looks away, huffing a little. “Right.”

“I’m quite serious. But just… think about what I said, okay? And we’ll start meeting professionally next week.”

“Got it. I think I need… I’m going to head home.” He pushes himself to his feet, and they say their goodbyes with Jake thinking it over, preoccupied as he walks out, hears the click of the door’s automatic lock behind him as he steps into the yellowish light. The scent of wildfire smoke sets his shoulders a little higher towards his chin, tenses his muscles.

The edge of the horizon, on one side, is still a little bit dark and orange.

The wildfires are under control, the news anchors say, but they’re still burning. The tragedy has already happened, there’s no prevention any longer, only recovery. Only trying to head it off before it gets any worse.

The trees are already stumps and ash, the wild animals have turned to blackened bone or escaped the inferno. Cars have wound their way down mountain roads burning on either side, vehicles packed to their roofs with whatever the people could take with them in the ten or twenty minutes they were given before they had to run, everything else left to be lost.

The bruises are already dark around Kauri’s throat and over his hips, his movements are already hesitant, his lips tremble when he wakes up, checking to be sure he isn't alone.

Jake has already been a little boy in the emergency room listening to his mother say his concussion is from falling on the pavement when it had been his father throwing him down, he’s already felt himself boil alive with rage he can’t let out. 

He's already been a teenager with a black eye on a bus in the middle of the night, told that it was a mistake that he was ever born by one of the two people who should have loved him unconditionally.

In what used to be the forests, dark charcoal marks are already cut so deeply into the earth that they’ll be visible for a long, long time. The smoke is already visible, in some spots, from space.

The damage is already done.

They can’t undo the fires.

They can only work, now, to encourage the green things to grow back up over the scars.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

#emotional whump #jake the shelter guy #dr. andrea berger #therapy whump #therapy #trauma recovery whump #trauma recovery #domestic violence tw #emotional abuse tw #whump #writing #original writing #bbu #box boy universe #caretaker as whumpee #caretaker turned whumpee #grumpy caretaker #angry caretaker #angry whumpee #recovering whumpee #religion tw #brief but still #referenced child abuse

[allthecanadianpolitics]

Organizations that advocate for women and children fleeing domestic violence are applauding the news that the Saskatchewan government plans to provide money for second-stage shelters to operate in the province.

Saskatchewan Justice Minister Bronwyn Eyre announced during question period Wednesday that the Saskatchewan government has earmarked money for operational funding for the shelters in the upcoming budget, but didn't say how much.

Eyre did say that the provincial government has taken a serious look at what facilities and operators are out there, who can offer second-stage shelters, how they can offer them and how the government can best invest in them.

Lise Martin, the executive director of Women's Shelters Canada, said her organization is very happy the Saskatchewan government will do this. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#cdnpoli #Saskatchewan #women's shelters #domestic violence

[cyanocoraxx]

i fucking hate the state of england sometimes

i went to the pharmacy to pay for my prescription and there was a homeless gentleman there who somehow didn’t qualify for free scripts and he couldn’t afford to pay the fee for his medication, i stopped him at the door and offered to pay for him and we went back and forth with me trying to convince him that it was okay and i didn’t mind but he ended up saying no, went after him and he just kept saying no and i could tell he was crying about it. i don’t know why he didn’t qualify or why he didn’t have a hc2 certificate for low income allowances and that’s not my business, just, i hate that someone is out there without the things they need and they were either too ashamed or upset to accept help... god fucking damn. i hope you’re alright man.

we need to look after each other however we can, other people are all we have sometimes. don't ever fall into the trap of thinking nobody else cares about you or your struggles, there is always going to be someone out there who does even if they only met you for a couple of minutes.

anyway. approximately 271,000 people are recorded as homeless in england, including 123,000 children. around one in 208 people in england live without a home. homelessness is the result of so many things: financial hardships, substance misuse, mental health difficulties, domestic violence, eviction from private accommodation, insufficient support upon leaving prisons and mental health facilities, and traumatic events. no matter which one(s) of these apply, the person remains a human being deserving of what they need to survive. that goes without question. look after the people in your community, not because one day you could join them in that situation, but because other people are all we have when everything else is gone.

#txt #homelessness mention #its so obvious and so blatant yet so forgotten by people that the most vulnerable people in our community are HUMAN BEINGS. #and theres so many people in the community who left a mark on me and i still think about them to this day #the homeless gentleman who i managed to talk out of s*icide on the side of the road #we shared a cigarette and talked about his life #walked him back to the shelter and gave him numbers to crisis lines #the lady in my hometown who was homeless due to domestic violence and had pneumonia in the winter #i still think about her a lot and i hope she's doing better #i paid for her to stay in a hotel for a few nights to stay warm but my god. the fact that that NEEDED to be done by a stranger is so awful

[eyeofthetaiga]

obey me is wild bc like we got past the whole lucifer almost killing us twice thing and bel actually killing us thing too fast fuck u mean its ok bc im related to ur dead sister and remind u of her sometimes can u imagine a white boy threatening to harm you nevermind actually doing it then being like omg actually i love you like girl what are we doing

the way id try and kill them all

#like girl #obey me is fun but i replayed those lessons and im like ???? #girlie we gotta get you to a domestic violence shelter or some shit #txt post

[aurumacadicus]

Me, watching blogs I follow post about D*pp v H*ard, clearly in opposite camps:

Twin: Does that mean you have a side?

Me: No I don’t care. Celebrities don’t affect my life at all.

#anyway support your local domestic violence shelters

[thequeengisele]

Gisele donate $1 million to a women and children’s domestic violence shelter in Miami.

#gisele bundchen #supermodel #fashion #gisele #models #beautiful #model #beauty #queen #icon #supermodels #vogue #brazil #hair #pretty #brazilian #domestic violence #homeless #women’s shelter #women #children #charity #Miami #donate #inner beauty

[ceruleangold]

This is so specific (I say like most of my personal posts aren’t) but it’s absurdly comical how many Victim Advocates (actual professionals, not weirdos claiming they support victims for political clout) are pro-police. How are you gonna be pro-police while hearing how many times police fucked up a dv call and put the victim in harm’s ways? Gross.

#tw domestic violence #i say this like govt victim advocates ever do anything besides mail letters #but even dv shelters that partner with police #fucking don’t? #My boss at the dv shelter was awful (to everyone) towards the end of my time there #but she was progressive in the sense that she said we shouldn’t comply w/ any systems without a warrant #some shelters totally will because they want a good relationship with law enforcement #idk what good that relationship ever does #like I even had a horrible dv situation @ work last month #and my client has been really evasive of police because every time they talk to police the cops are condescending #which feeds into the abusers’ power dynamic because it creates an us (abuser & victim) vs them mentality #how you handle these situations matter assholes

[antimony-ore]

I can't think of an eloquent constructive or artistic way to say I'm having another trainwreck of a day...

#i wish there were domestic violence shelters for men here #I don't care who pushed who first #stop taking all my money (no exaggeration) not even giving me enough for gas and then taking my weed away when you're mad #I don't have a weed problem I have an It's the one thing you let me do freely stop taking it when you are mad #I don't have anything because you take my comfort items and drive out of my home with control and anger #I'm in my car again #my one friend hasn't answered me

[tuungaq]

i want an Emily Henry-style rom TLK AU that’s mostly just about twentysomethings uhtred, hild, finan and sihtric being young and stupid and getting into shenanigans (including but not limited to their love lives and careers)

#reading happy place and watching TLK at the same time is rotting my brain #Rachel watches the last kingdom #uhtred is an architect finan is his contractor hild runs a domestic violence shelter idk what sihtric does yet #hild is decidedly aromantic but an enabler of the boys nonetheless

[selkiecoded]

very cool of utah to propose a trans bathroom ban, i love living here

#would ban trans from gov buildings/prisons/domestic violence shelters from using bathroom unless theyve had surgery/legally changed sex #thank you utah very cool!!!! #theyre also apparently looking into making bathrooms more private and single stall and shit 🙄 #theyre like its not targeting anyone!! its just abt bad actors!! its just abt privacy!! no i think its targeting trans ppl actually. #<- person who said that also spearheaded the trans sports ban which lol. lmao. #<- same person ALSO couldnt provide any evidence to back up claim of trans ppl behaving inappropriately in bathrooms which. LOL. LMAO.

[j-a-nuary]

Work rant under the cut

One of the residents went to the hospital for suicidal ideation and now my program manager is asking us to compile notes on why they should not be allowed to come back to shelter due to needing a higher level of care.

This sends the message that psychological stress is a reason to have people denied/kicked out of shelter.

Their racist ass roommate is very likely to just let this event compound their belief that if they (a white person) complains enough about POC residents long enough that the POC will eventually be kicked out.

It's a DV shelter. Every single person here is under psychological duress. Needing a higher level of care applies to 90% of the people that come through here.

The bullying that this person suffered from the other residents here is absolutely insane. Their roommate called the cops on them several times over the most miniscule shit. I feel like we, domestic violence victim advocates, are protecting the wrong fucking person.

I am witnessing in real time one of those systematic failures that our managers love to get all teary eyed over during trainings and those same managers are the ones enabling it.

One of the other residents said to me "isn't it so nice and quiet now that [resident] is gone?" and let me fucking tell you, giving the correct/professional response instead of pointing out that the only reason there were so many arguments when [resident] was here is because they would get pissed about the slurs and lies coming out of the mouths of others made my fucking bones ache.

I feel completely powerless. I talked to coworkers about it, and they feel the same - especially regarding the roommate taking this as a "win". I'm "just" an adjunct here and I am at a loss as to how to properly advocate for this person who is likely going to end up getting bounced between homeless shelters and warming centers.

I tried talking to mgmt and they said "we're not med certified, we can't help [them] the way [they] need us to." So? Our best option is to say "sucks to suck, best of luck"?

This is the shit people are talking about when they talk about systemic racism. We've taken on plenty of high risk/suicidal/psych residents before - guess what the main difference was between them and this resident.

I feel like a lot of those points are just me saying the same thing in different ways but it's 2:45am and I've spent the last two hours reading tons of documentation of how much our program has failed to step up for this person.

#work #tw: domestic violence #tw: racism #systemic racism #dv shelter #personal rant #kiwi irl #off topic